"Robert F. Young - Thirty Days Had September" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

"Don't get excited, I'm not going to hurt your rug," Danby said. "And will
somebody please turn off TV so we can hear ourselves think!"
"I'll turn it off, Dad." Billy made nine-year-old strides across the room and killed
the pitchman, pink coat and all.
Danby fumbled with the cover of the case, aware of Laura's breath on the back of
his neck. "A schoolteacher!" she gasped, when it finally came open. "Of all the
things for a grown man to bring home to his wife! A schoolteacher."
"She's not an ordinary schoolteacher," Danby said. "She can cook, she can sew,
she—she can do just about anything. You're always saying you need a maid. Well,
now you've got one. And Billy's got someone to help him with his TV-lessons."
"How much?" For the first time Danby realized what a narrow face his wife had.
"Forty-nine ninety-five."
 "Forty-nine ninety-five! George, are you crazy? Here I've been saving our money
so we could turn in our Baby B. for a new Cadillette, and you go throwing it away
on an old broken-down schoolteacher. What does she know about teleducation?
Why, she's fifty years behind the times!"
"She's not going to help me with my TV-lessons!" Billy said, glowering at the
case. "My TV-teacher said those old android teachers weren't good for anything.
They—they used to hit kids!"
"They did not!" Danby said. "And I should know, because I went to realschool
all the way to the eighth grade." He turned to Laura. "And she's not broken down,
either, and she's not fifty years behind the times, and she knows more about real
education than your teleteachers ever will! And like I said, she can sew, she can
cook—"
"Well, tell her to warm up our supper then!"
"I will!"
He reached into the case, depressed the little activator button, and, when the blue
eyes opened, said: "Come with me, Miss Jones," and led her into the kitchen.
He was delighted at the way she responded to his instructions as to which buttons
to push, which levers to raise and lower, which indicators to point at which
numerals— Supper was off the table in a jiffy and back on again in the wink of an
eye, all warm and steaming and delectable.
Even Laura was mollified. "Well …," she said.
"Well, I guess!" Danby said. "I said she could cook, didn't I? Now you won't
have to complain any more about jammed buttons and broken fingernails and—"
"All right, George. Don't rub it in."
Her face was back to normal again, still a little on the thin side, of course, but that
was part of its attractiveness under ordinary circumstances; that, and her dark,
kindling eyes and exquisitely made-up mouth. She'd just had her breasts built up
again and she really looked terrific in her new gold and scarlet loungerie. Danby
decided he could have done far worse. He put his finger under her chin and kissed
her. "Come on, let's eat," he said.
For some reason, he'd forgotten about Billy. Glancing up from the table, he saw
his son standing in the doorway, staring balefully at Miss Jones, who was busy with
the coffee.
"She's not going to hit me!" Billy said, answering Danby's glance.
Danby laughed. He felt better, now that half the battle was won. The other half
could be taken care of later. "Of course she's not going to hit you," he said. "Now
come over and eat your supper like a good boy."
"Yes," Laura said, "and hurry up. Romeo and Juliet is on the Western Hour, and